


Canine Confessions

by Gaby



Series: Canine 'verse [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Crack, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/pseuds/Gaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satchmo spills the beans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canine Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for Angelita26's cracktastic prompt _Peter and El are out of town. Neal and Mozzie are taking care of Satchmo at one of Mozzie's safehouses. Satchmo eats something he shouldn't have and starts talking to them_ for whitecollarhc's even more cracktastic [Crackfic Monopoly Fest](http://whitecollarhc.livejournal.com/158280.html).
> 
> With awesome cover art by the even more awesome Kanarek13!

“Dude, that’s some potent stuff you got there.”

Mozzie stopped pouring the wine and looked up with a frown. “Neal?” he asked carefully.

From somewhere deep in the recesses of Thursday came Neal’s voice, sounding distracted. “What?”

“Nothing.” Mozzie frowned even more, his eyes darting back and forth. He was sure he had heard something, but the voice had come from behind him, not from where Neal was poking around Mozzie’s latest acquisitions of Russian surplus spyware.

Mozzie sighed and shook his head. It was obvious that he needed a drink. He grabbed the bottle of wine and continued pouring.

“Seriously, dude, it’s like I’m seeing in technicolor and I’m actually colorblind! Whoa.”

Mozzie slammed the wine bottle on the table and glared at his immediate surroundings. “Neal!”

“What?”

“Did you just say you’re colorblind?”

There was some rustling in the far corner of Thursday, and then Neal sauntered around some shelves. “Colorblind? Seriously, Moz, how many bottles of wine did you drink today? How am I supposed to forge anything if I’m colorblind?”

“Allegedly, Neal. Allegedly forge.” Mozzie shook his head and then spread his arms. “I _swear_ someone--”

“Do you have any more of that stuff? Because I gotta tell ya, it’s _awesome_.”

Mozzie stared at Neal, saw that Neal’s mouth wasn’t moving, and realized that the voice definitely came from behind him, even though Neal stood in front of him.

Judging by the look of disbelief and panic on Neal’s face, Mozzie wasn’t the only one who thought he was losing it.

“See? See?! I knew someone...” Mozzie trailed off when he realized that the only living, breathing creature behind him was Satchmo. He slowly turned around, as if afraid of whatever he might encounter, and stared at the dog.

Satchmo gave him a happy doggy grin and then asked, “So, got more?”

Mozzie reached blindly behind him and braced himself against the table. He made a soft whimpering sound in the back of his throat.

Neal just continued to stare, for once in his life speechless.

“Cat got your tongue?” Satch chuffed out a doggy laugh, looking from one human to the other, but finally realized that neither one of them was going to say anything. He sighed. Then he got comfortable and proceeded to lick himself with abandon.

Neal and Mozzie shared a helpless look. Neal opened his mouth a couple of times, but then closed it again when he realized that he had no idea what to say. Mozzie just pushed the wine bottle as far away from himself as he could.

After a few minutes, Satch looked up with a happy doggy grin, his tongue lolling. “Bet you’re jealous,” he said to Mozzie, giving himself another meaningful lick. “Bet you wish you could do that, too.”

“Neal!” Mozzie looked affronted and clearly expected Neal to do something.

“Satch!” was all Neal managed to come up with.

“Oh, shove it, man,” Satch replied. “You have Peter to do the licking for you.”

Mozzie’s eyes widened almost comically. “Neal!”

“Satch!”

“What?” Satch sat on his haunches and tilted his head to the side. Then he gave Mozzie a knowing look. “Neal’s a balls guy. Peter sometimes spends hours licking them.” It almost looked as if Satch was rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “But trust me, Neal’s got some pretty awesome moves, too.” He sidled up to Mozzie and bumped his leg with a shoulder as if they were two frat brothers sharing a dirty secret. “Peter becomes religious whenever Neal’s going down on him. Keeps yelling ‘oh god, sweet Jesus, holy Mary, mother of--’”

“Neal!!!” Mozzie’s eyes were bulging dangerously.

Neal just buried his face in his hands. “Satch,” he mumbled, defeated.

“I can’t believe you and the Suit--! I mean, damn it, Neal, what about Mrs. Suit?!”

“El’s more of a heavy breather,” Satch piped up helpfully. “She moans a lot.”

Mozzie stared at the dog in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.

Satch apparently considered this to be an invitation to elaborate. “Neal really likes to eat pu--”

“SATCHMO!” Neal jumped forward and physically kept the dog’s muzzle shut.

Mozzie stared at Neal in shock. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” he accused.

“You’re hearing it from a _talking dog_ , Moz.” Neal hoped the absurdity of it all would make Mozzie doubt the truth behind the words. He reached out beseechingly with one hand.

Satch seized the opportunity and started talking again. “Come on, don’t be shy. I’ve seen you in action more times than I can count!” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Okay, that doesn’t mean much ‘cause I can’t really count, period, but you know what I mean.”

Neal stared at the dog in disbelief. “You’re watching us having sex?!”

“Hey, it’s my home, too, you know!” Satch looked affronted for a moment, and then gave Neal a doggy grin. He raised one paw. “And I gotta tell ya, you da dawg, man!” He shook his paw meaningfully.

Neal just continued to stare, completely speechless.

“Da dawg, man!” Satch repeated, holding his paw up a little higher.

“Are you seriously expecting me to _fist bump_ you?!”

Satch gave as much of a shrug as he could and touched Neal’s hand. “Da dawg,” he said, clearly impressed. He wagged his tail approvingly.

“I need a drink,” Neal muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mozzie eyed the wine bottle. He doubted it would help any.

“Hey, which one of you’s going to take me for a walk?” Satch asked. He was standing in front of Mozzie’s beloved bonsai and stared at it intently. “You don’t seriously expect me to water that thing, do you? I mean, talk about underwater botany.” He chuffed out another laugh.

“I’ll go,” Neal immediately said, grabbing the dog’s leash. “I’m going to buy him a muzzle. And I’ll never take it off again!” He glared meaningfully at Satch, and then looked at Mozzie. “In the meantime, please do try to find out how the hell this could have happened? And, even more importantly, find out how to reverse it? Please?!”

“The potent stuff,” Satch said while he scratched Thursday’s door impatiently. He needed to _go_.

“What potent stuff?” Mozzie asked, rubbing his temples. He had one hell of a migraine.

Satch turned to look at the sad remnants of a plant. Mozzie and Neal followed his gaze.

“What’s that thing?” Neal asked.

“I’m not sure. I bought it from Mister Lee the other day because it looked pretty.” Mozzie shrugged. “He told me it had magical powers but I thought he was just trying to make it more interesting.”

“You call the guy and find out what’s going on.” Neal pointed a stern finger at Mozzie. “I want answers when I get back.” He put the leash on Satch, admonished the dog to keep his thoughts to himself, and then left Thursday with a slam of the front door.

Mozzie stared at the door for a whole minute, trying to process what had just happened.

He needed a drink.

Making a wild grab for the wine bottle, Mozzie bumped into the table, lost his footing, and fell on his ass, slamming his head hard against a table leg in the process. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that the wine was way too expensive to be spilled all over the floor...

*****

When Mozzie woke up some undetermined time later, his head was killing him. He had no idea what was going on, looked around disoriented and wondered why he was lying on the floor. He sat up and immediately held his pounding head.

The memory of what had happened earlier came flooding back, and he blinked in shock. Where was Neal? Where was the damn talking dog?

Mozzie grabbed his cell phone and called his friend. Something was seriously wrong, and he was going to get to the bottom of this. He only remembered Satchmo telling him about Neal having a threesome with the Suit and Mrs. Suit. There was something about Mister Lee’s magical plant... Mozzie squinted in the semi-darkness and saw that the plant was all but gone. There were also several empty wine bottles lying around on the floor. Where the hell was Neal? Mozzie glared at his cell phone and willed his friend to finally answer the call.

“Moz.” Neal’s voice sounded rushed, distracted, and not very pleased about being interrupted, though Mozzie had no idea what exactly he was interrupting. “This had better be important.”

“Where are you?”

“Where am I?” Neal echoed in disbelief. “I’m hanging up, Moz.”

“No! No, Neal, wait! I...where’s Satchmo?”

“What?”

“You were here with him. You wanted to buy him a muzzle because--”

“God, Moz, please tell me you didn’t smoke that weird plant again!”

Mozzie blinked at that. “What?”

“I don’t care how much you want to cleanse your consciousness or open your mind to the unthinkable or whatever else you’re trying to accomplish, the next time I find out you bought something from Mister Lee, I’m going to slap you silly.”

Mozzie stared blankly at the sad remnants of the plant.

“And now I’m hanging up. Don’t call me again unless it’s a real emergency, Moz.”

Mozzie idly wondered why Neal sounded so out of breath and preoccupied. And then he heard it, softly in the background: a female voice moaning in ecstasy and a male voice whimpering, “Oh god, oh Jesus Christ, oh sweet Mary--”

Mozzie dropped his phone as if burned and gave a full body shudder.

He needed more of that plant. _Stat._

THE END


End file.
